Nothing to lose...that was my outlook. I had nothing to lose as a child because I had nothing. Nothing that I wanted to keep at least. Everything I had was riddled with thoughts of pain, riddles with everything bad you could think of. So therefore in my mind I believed I had nothing at all to lose, and nothing to gain.

I was unpopular, distant and cold. Everything that a little child in kindergarten SHOULDNT have been. I was full of rage and anger at six, already in peoples faces about anything and everything because that's what I was taugt. My father was a very sick minded man, and to this day he still is. Everything in our lives was focused on his abuse. Something in his brain thought that it would be right to beat his wife, and yell, scream, rant and rave over everything wrong us children did. I was only 5 when I forgot to put my dish in the sink, but at five I was beat in the hallway and sent to my room. And no one knew. Not my grandmas or grandpas. Only my brother, my mom, dad and me. Because no one else was allowed to know. According to my dad it was our business and our lives. Everything was our fault, and our lives were like they were because of us. No little kid thinks or ever will think what their parents do is wrong because there's an age when you realize, and can think on your own, but from the day your born to that age, there's nothing you really can do because your brain believes what your parents do.

I went to Kindergarten my first day, alone. Without a parent to stand outside at the end of the driveway with me to make sure I got on the bus alright. My mom enveloped herself in work because it was her escape. And my father was in the house, watching TV and drinking coffee, just happy enough to know that I was up and out of his hair. I sat at the edge of the driveway, because he sent me out at least 20 minutes early. Twenty-whole minutes I sat there, my bookbag next to me. My brand new shoes laced up, tied on my own, the bus tag around my neck so they knew who I was and I knew what bus I was to go on. And as I sat there for that twenty minutes, and kids started to come out of their houses to wait for the bus, only then, I realized that something was wrong. Every kids parent was out there with them, reassuring them on their first day of Kindergarten. That big yellow bus pulled up to the driveway, and I got on, the bus driver looking at me oddly and I made my way, sat in the front, and tapped my feet.

People were crying, some had their parents AT school with them. But I just did what everyone at my house told me to do. Suck it up, go in, put my stuff in the cubby hole and just sit down, which is exactly what I did. I was the first kid in the class room, and I was sitting down on the carpet, on the big red A, and the teacher came up to me and asked me who I was, and where my mommy or daddy was, because for the first day of school they were allowed to come for the first couple minutes. And I lied and said that they were busy with work, so the teacher ended up being my replacement parent.

I was a distant kid throughout all of my school years, because I came home, got beat, and then that was it. My life. No friends. Then my parents split up and it just got worse. When I was ten, I was always on the computer, and an article that came up on the dogpile search engine was about self-injury. And it seemed intresting, so I read it. Sure enough the next night, after my dad had screamed and tore my room apart, I took a safety pin, like so many others start out with, and dragging in across my wrists with pressure. And i continued, because it took my mind off of my father.

Almost every night was guaranteed a fight, and Child Protective Services was always there in school the next day to talk to you. And I might have had a chance to get out sooner, but I lied because I was afraid of my father. I'd lie, and go back home that night and cut. I didn't cut bad as a child, but during my 12, and 13th years it progressively got worse. I moved in with my mom around 13ish and I stopped for a brief time. Until I had to go to a new school district and deal with the taunting that all the students did. And I started up again. I became a loner, and wore long sleeves constantly. My life seems worthless, and one point I considered suicide, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not at that time at least.

Then my mom met her new boyfriend and we moved out back to the old school district. And so many enemies I had made when I was there, had not been quick to forget me in a year, and the taunting just got worse, to the point that one day, I sorted everything out in my locker, and vowed to commit suicide. It was a friday, but my friend was coming over for a funnight we were going to at the school, that I had only remembered when she came up to me with the bus pass to my house, and I just froze. I blocked it all, and tried to make myself stop.

I made it through seventh grade, but eighth grade was the worst. I sat on the bus on the way to school and vowed suicide again. Yet when I went home, I didn't chicken out. I'd always been home alone from the time I got home until 5, and in that time I started slashing at my wrists, cutting deeper and deeper and bleeding horribly. I remember that the phone rang, and it was my friend who lived a few houses down. He had called to see why i wasnt answering my messages online, and he seemed to think something was up. He came over, and when I answered the door, he just took one look at me and the rest I can't really think clearly of. It turns out he had helped me clean the cuts, and luckily they weren't deep enough to hit a vein. He covered up for me and said that I had gotten hurt in school, and at the time my mother wasn't one bit suspicious because she always believed me and never really got to see the cuts. It was wrapped up and theres only a faint scar of it now, a year later.

That day I learned someone cared. And I love that someone with all of my life, and although he doesn't love me the way I love him and we can never be something, he cared enough for me, and didn't tell anybody. He spent that whole year trying to help me, and he did. And this year I've only cut minorly. I don't wish that on ANYONE. It's a horrible mind trap to get caught up in. Your mind will not let the concept go, and it just consumes you. To this day if I look at scars, I can almost feel the urge, trying to pull me back into its mindset, but I'm learning more and more each day. NOt to give into impulses. And to everyone who reads this, if you EVER need help, or just need someone to talk to, without anyone ever telling anyone else, you can always IM me at rockerduuude69 ( im always on, and that's not my main screen name, its just to keep anyone I really know from finding this) Im always on, and even if Im away IM me. Sometimes you just need someone to vent to.